


Beauty

by Clankit



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Boston After Dark, But only for one of them, F/M, I think I'm the first one to do a fic about H2-22, Implied Relationships, Longer than expected, Love at First Sight, Memory Interrupted, Memory Loss, Sad, Sorry for so many tags in the relationship category, Spoilers, That's it though, Unrequited Love, and, for quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clankit/pseuds/Clankit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>H2-22 had never known beauty, being made and having lived his life up until recently in the Institute, but he was sure she was the image of it. </p><p>(Spoilers for Railroad quests Boston After Dark and Memory Interrupted)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Another spoiler warning for Railroad quests Boston After Dark and Memory Interrupted. I highly suggest you play them before reading this.

H2-22 didn’t remember much from living in the Institute, but it’s not like he was trying.

He remembered people in lab coats, and that was about it. He remembered being treated like a tool, a lowly maintenance worker, not worth the time of day to the scientists. He doesn’t even remember meeting another synth, let alone talking to one.  He was to afraid to try to remember anything else, not daring to try to think up what had they had done to him in the Institute. All he knew is suddenly he was outside a small shack that he felt the incredible urge to get as far away from as possible. He had ran, and kept running, and only stopped when people pointed guns at him and told him if he got any closer they would shoot.

He had wandered around a town for almost a full day, everyone to wary of him to even offer him the tiniest morsel. No one asked his name, and later he would find out that was a good thing, for if he had told anyone his designation was H2-22, he probably would’ve died where he stood. Luckily, before someone took pity on him, he was pulled off to the side by someone and asked if he knew anything of the world. He had responded with complete honesty, saying he knew nothing of this world or the people and things that inhabited it. Then they had asked him if he knew his name. He said yes, and told them what it was.

They had taken him out of the town, and H2-22 had nothing better to do than follow them.

They had given him some food and some water, and let him rest before taking him to Bunker Hill.

It was the closest thing to comfort he had ever known.

Then he had met Old Man Stockton, who wasn’t exactly nice either, but he wasn’t at all rude. H2-22 found it a pleasant change from the townspeople who had shunned him, as the person who had handed him over to Stockton seemed only to tolerate him. Stockton wasn’t particularly affectionate towards him either, but he seemed a tiny bit nicer. He was told about what was going on, about how synths were treated in the Commonwealth, and about how the Railroad was an organization dedicated to protecting synths, and seemingly the only one at that. He was told he was supposed to be transferred somewhere else, but the area of where he was to meet the person who would take him away was filled with raiders. So, of course, he was to stay put in a little shack outside of Bunker Hill until someone came along to help them. H2-22 didn’t mind; for once in his miserable life, people were being nice to him. That was enough.

And then Old Man Stockton told him that the church had been cleared out, and that he was going to be moved tonight. So together they had slipped through the abandoned city to the church, carefully avoiding anything that might cause them harm. With the person who had snuffed out any hostiles in the area not there at the moment, he sat down on one of the old pews to await the arrival of the person that was supposed to help him get to Ticonderoga- a place supposedly filled with other runaway synths like him.

It was late in the night, and they had been waiting for several hours. H2-22 almost thought the person wasn’t coming, but then they arrived.

H2-22 had never known beauty, being made and having lived his life up until recently in the Institute, but he was sure she was the image of it.

She was, in all respects, beautiful. She was tall for a women, at least compared to the female scientists he had seen in the Institute. She had soft brown hair that glowed in the moonlight, reminding him of the few flowers he had seen in his short time outside. She was steadily built with some muscle, but she wasn’t completely buff. It was clear she could handle herself in a fight. Her fingers looked light and delicate, although her hands were covered in calluses. Still, he was sure that if he ever had the pleasure of touching her hand, it would be warm and soft, but still firm and full of strength. And her face…

H2-22 hadn’t seen many faces in his life, maybe about 30 total, with about 20 of those being the villagers he met when he first escaped. Yet he was sure, no matter how many faces he saw, hers would be the most beautiful. She was smiling when he first saw her, and although it was dark and he had to squint to see her at first, it lit up her face like she was the sun and her face a field of fresh roses. Not that he had ever seen a rose, mind you. He had only seen a picture of one, and he was rather sure that they didn’t exist anymore. But even if he did seen one, he didn’t think it could even compare to her beauty. Her skin wasn’t as dark has his own, which only had a permanent tan, and was more of an ivory color. Her nose was large and her cheeks donned freckles, probably given to her by her time spent in the sun. That didn’t make her any less beautiful. What really drew him in, however, was her eyes.

Her eyes were a simple brown, and although it was a lovely color, H2-22 wouldn’t say it was his favorite. He’d have to say it was blue, a deep blue, almost exactly the shade she was wearing. But what was exciting about her eyes is the fact they showed she was  _alive_. They sparkled with interest, and when her companion, a ghoul in a get up H2-22 personally thought was rather ridiculous made a joke, she crinkled her nose and her eyes shone as her whole body shook with laughter. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

He stood up on instinct as she approached, and barely registered as Old Man Stockton said “This is H2-22. H2, here’s the person I talked to you about.”

Her smile stayed on her face as she greeted him. “Nice to meet you, H2.” And she seemed to genuinely mean it. He realized she was probably waiting for him to respond, and quickly stuttered out a reply.

“Another person actually happy to meet me. This’ll take some getting used to.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. And so did the ghoul standing to her left. He didn’t take notice of how close they were standing together, and how their elbows were touching, and how when she glanced at him there was fondness in her gaze. He didn’t.

“Remember what I told you, H2.” Stockton interrupted his thought process, and H2-22 turned to look at him. That was right. He was supposed to be quiet. “I’ll fire up at the signal.”

H2-22 took a step back from the women. It was rather weird to call her women or the girl in his head, but he didn’t know what else to call her. Stockton had said the person’s code name was Charmer, and while it certainly fit her, it didn’t seem right. Anyone that beautiful had to have an equally lovely name, and Charmer certainly didn’t fit.

Stockton lit up the lantern he had put in the window, and shook out the burning match with his hand. “And there. Time for me to go. Keep H2 safe. Someone will be here shortly.” And with that, Stockton took his leave, leaving H2-22 behind with the women and her companion.

His eyes widened when she approached him again. He glanced around nervously, unsure of what to say. “From what I’ve been told it’s probably safer if I don’t say anything. I don’t want to put you in any more danger.” And it was true. He had been told be keep quiet, and not to interact with the agent helping transport him. And H2-22 would’ve loved to talk to her about anything. About what her favorite color was. What her favorite food was. Why she joined the Railroad. How she felt about synths. How she felt about ghouls, and if she would be open to a romantic relationship with ghouls. What about with synths? Only out of pure curiosity, of course. But he was a danger to anyone involved with him, and he definitely didn’t want to hurt her.

Her face softened, and H2-22 definitely wanted to see her do that because of something nice he said. Well, supposedly not wanting to talk to someone because it might get them in trouble was nice. Sort of. But he definitely wanted to hear her laugh again. But because of him, and not because of some silly joke that ghoul made. “I appreciate the thought.”

Despite his instructions to keep his mouth closed, he talked to her more. “You guys are all… well, no one’s ever stuck their neck out for me.” He gulped, but continued anyways. Anything was worth talking to this lovely goddess for a few more seconds. “I wanted to thank you. This world is… overwhelming. But people like you make me feel better about coming here.”

“We do all this to give you a better life.” she said softly, and it seemed like there was some regret behind those words. H2-22 didn’t know for what, but he wanted to reach out, to comfort her. He would gladly hold her in his shaky arms and tell her it was all going to be okay. But the ghoul next to her nodded and quietly intertwined his hand with hers, and he was bitterly reminded he would never get that chance.

“You really. You really have no idea how much I appreciate all of this.” His voice wavered. She was kind, so kind. Kinder than Old Man Stockton, and the person who brought him to him. They were still kind, but she was kinder. Kinder than the scientists who had treated him like a tool at the Institute. Kinder than the first people who weren’t scientists that he had ever met. Kinder than H2-22 himself, although that probably wasn't saying much.

Suddenly, her gaze steeled, and she turned back to the open doorway, taking a step out into the cool night air. The ghoul followed her close behind. He was afraid for her, and didn’t want anyone to hurt her. The ghoul, not so much. He didn’t want him to die, per say, but he wouldn’t mind that much if he suddenly went feral.

“Don’t shoot!” A voice called from the outside of the church, and H2-22 nervously peered out a window to see who it was. It was a dark-skinned man, with short black hair. Another new face. He eyed the girl nervously. “Charmer, right? I heard about you. Walked the Freedom Trail, cleared out Switchboard. Glad you joined the team.” His voice was nice, soothing. Not as sweet and gentle as the girl’s, but definitely better than that ghoul’s raspy voice, even though he had only heard it once.

Her face brightened up considerably, although with a sense of pride H2-22 noticed her smile wasn’t as quite as bright for the stranger as it had been for him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Honor’s all mine.” _Well, at least he has one thing right_. She stepped back to allow him to step inside, which he did. “Let’s take a look at our friend.” And suddenly, all the attention was on him.

“Hey you. You OK?” He asked with a caring tone.

“A little rattled.” H2-22 admitted, shuffling nervously on his feet. “But I’ve never been better. The other man… He said I shouldn’t talk too much.”  

The man hummed, and H2-22 dimly remembered that his name was High Rise. “He told you right, H2. You’ll need a real name, and a new face, but we’ll get to that.” H2-22 wouldn’t mind a new name, as long as he liked it. He was a bit more attached to his face, but he could give it up. Anything was better than going back to the Institute. High Rise turned back to the girl. “There’s more of them raiders behind me. Afraid we need a little more help.”

She grinned. “More raiders. Not a problem.” H2-22 wondered how she had such bravery. He could barely throw a punch, let alone fire a gun.

High Rise whistled. “You headquarter heavies mean business. We need to get to Ticonderoga Safehouse. My home.” He spared a glance back at H2-22. “A lot of synths crash there until we smuggle them out of the Commonwealth.”

H2-22 reeled a bit. He had known that he was going to be moved somewhere else, someplace that was supposedly safe, but he hadn’t known that it meant he would be moving somewhere else. It didn’t matter, anyway. He barely knew the place. So why was he feeling sadness? He frowned inwardly, and then almost let out a sigh when he looked back the at the women. Of course. But maybe she could visit? Or he could live on the edge, and he could visit her. All H2-22 knew was that after this, he wanted to see her again.

“Nice that you’re willing to do that for us.” H2-22 was pulled back into the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m working off sins for a misspent youth.” He sighed, and H2-22 wondered what he could’ve done, as he had never had the honor of having a youth. “I’ll lead the way.”

And, with that, High Rise had started a slow jog towards his home. The women followed him, and the ghoul followed her, although she did glance at H2-22 with a hint of concern in her gaze, and H2-22 felt touched at the thought she might be worried about him. But they blasted their way to Ticonderoga, with the girl doing most of the fighting, and High Rise and the ghoul only helping out. H2-22 felt proud for some reason, although he knew in reality he had no real reason or right to be.

They stopped outside a rather tall building, and the girl turned to face High Rise.

“And we’re here!” he proclaimed. “All in a night’s work for you agent types, huh?” His tone seemed slightly suggestive, like that maybe she should spend a night with him, and see what else was a night’s work. H2-22 frowned at that thought, and glared at the ghoul when he noticed him narrowing his eyes at High Rise and muttering under his breath. The ghoul shouldn’t worry about the girl’s personal life, it was her own business what or who she got involved with. H2-22 ignored the fact he was doing the same.

‘“Just part of the service.” she said, a true statement which was also turning down any other further advancements High Rise might make. He had liked High Rise at first, but flirting with a total stranger only minutes after meeting each other was weird. It was probably mostly the adrenaline. The adrenaline was definitely the only thing causing the ghoul to rest a hand on her shoulder.

“I think I’m going to like you even more than Glory.” Well, whoever this Glory was, he should try to like her better. No need to insult her. Although he was probably just stating a fact. It would be impossible to meet her and not immediately like her. “If you ever need grub, bullets, or just a power-nap take the elevator up to Ticon. My house is yours.” H2-22 hoped High Rise had taken the hint and was just speaking as a friend. “But right now, I need to take care of H2. Later.” High Rise turned away, and motioned for H2-22 to follow him. H2-22 desperately turned to the girl, hoping to say goodbye, to make plans to see each other again, to shake her hand, anything!

But she was already walking away, leaning into the ghoul’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around his waist.

H2-22 was silent when he entered the elevator, although once the doors slid shut and they started to rise he spoke.

“Is there any chance I’ll meet the gi- Charmer again?” he asked, not daring to look at High Rise, instead choosing to study the walls of the elevator. He had never been in one before.

“No, probably not. Her job’s done, and now that you’re here, we’ve got to get you ready for being taken outside the Commonwealth.” Although he couldn’t see it, he was sure High Rise was looking at him right now. “Why?”

“No particular reason.” He still didn’t look at High Rise. “Just curious.”

High Rise said nothing in response. The elevator was silent for the rest of the trip.

H2-22 was surprised at how much the other synths were like him. Scared, little to no memories, and most of them to shocked to say anything, really. He didn’t make friends, although he didn’t make enemies. Everyone was kind.

When H2-22 first heard about the fact most of the synths were opting to get fake memories, he was wary of it. He wanted to know what he was, to know who he was. He wasn’t ashamed. And he didn’t want to lose his memories of the beautiful girl. But then he remembered how it was the last time he had seen her, how she was leaning into the ghoul, and he said yes.

“Push this button when you’re ready to record your message.” Dr. Amari said. H2-22 liked her, more than he liked most people, at least. She was stern, but not mean. Firm, but kind. If he had had a mother, he would’ve wanted her to be like Dr. Amari.

H2-22 said nothing, and simply nodded. Dr. Amari looked at him, pity clearly in her eyes. “Do you want to be left alone?” she asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“No, it’s fine. I’m okay.” He took a deep breath, and pressed the record button. She fell silent, and removed her hand from his shoulder.

“The doctor said I could say goodbye.” He started off, his eyes clouding as he thought of all he wanted to say to her. “I’ve decided .. to have the operation.” he clarified. “I know I’ll lose all my memories. I don’t want you to be sad.” He would never want her to be sad. He knew that the ghoul, whoever he was, made her happy, and that was enough. Knowing she was happy was how he would get through this. “I… I have nightmares.” When he dreamt, he got flashes. Flashes of his time in the Institute, of being made, of screaming as he was put together like a jigsaw puzzle. He didn’t know how many of them were real, and how many of them were terrors created by his own mind. “And this world, the SRB, being hunted. I just can’t handle it. Everyone says I’ll be safer if I start a new life.” It was true. No one told him that there was any benefits of keeping his memories. But there was benefits of giving them up.

“I know I’ll be happier.” He would never be truly happy in this mind unless he was the one keeping her, the one she was leaning on. “My only regret is I’ll forgot… Old Man Stockton…. High Rise. And you.” Those were the only people in the world he could call friends. Stockton may have been a bit rough around the edges, but he was still a good person. The time he had spent at Ticonderoga had made him like and appreciate High Rise. And, well, the girl- or Charmer, as everyone else called her- was who she was. Beautiful, funny, intelligent. Everything he wanted, but couldn’t have. “Looking back, there’s only fear. Worse than fear. But I will miss my new… friends.” By now, tears were leaking out of the corner of his eyes, and H2-22 was somewhat relived. He hadn’t been sure if he could cry.

He was startled when Dr. Amari spoke softly. “It’s time, H2.”

He nodded, before turning to face the recorder again, pretending it was her. He wanted to say he loved her, to tell her what he wished they could have, to say he knew she didn’t feel the same way but he hoped she kept her happiness and her ghoul friend with her all the same. Instead, he said one thing, one thing that he hoped summed up it all.

“I… uh… Thanks.” He pressed the stop button, and rose from his seat. Soon, in a couple minutes, he would stop being H2-22 and become someone else. All that would be left of him would be a holotape, and a memory.

But that was okay. H2-22 didn’t mind. It would be nice.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought H2-22 was sweet and wanted to do something about him. I like the beginning and the end, but I think I faltered a bit in the middle. Still happy with how this turned out though!


End file.
